The Second Run: A Sorri Lyrax Delivery (Part Three)

Writer’s Note: The Second Run: A Sorri Lyrax Delivery (Part Three) was published originally in Jump Point 4.3. You can read Part One here, and Part Two here.
Part 3: Act Like You Know
Dodecahedron had already passed through the Kilian system, and was well on its way through Ellis towards the Magnus jump where it would then continue on its way to Stanton. The complete opposite direction of where I wanted to go. Under normal circumstances, the pilot of the ship would have honored his agreement and have already dropped me off at a starport so I could continue my journey to Tyrol IV and finish my delivery on time. Normal circumstances might also indicate a place to sit that didn’t involve slightly-above-freezing ship flooring and a less than insane number of wooden games and puzzles in my general vicinity.

But nothing about Dodecahedron had been normal thus far. Now I was going to miss the timetable and I was out more funds that I couldn’t recover. At the rate I was going, I’d use up my ship savings and be back at zero year soon.

I hadn’t given up, but I didn’t have any more ideas about how to convince him to take me to an Ellis station. I’d threatened to destroy his puzzles, but he calmly replied that he would cut the oxygen supply off and throw my body out the airlock. I thought it was a bad joke at first. But since I hadn’t registered my trip on Vita Perry, nor the transfer to Dodecahedron, no one would ever know that he’d killed me. I was at his mercy.

Based on the twisted games on the shelves, I should count myself lucky that he hadn’t knocked me out and cut me into tiny pieces.

I didn’t even really know how to read him. Men like him never came into my father’s bar. Occasionally, we’d see ‘proper folk’ — that’s what my father called anyone who could speak for more than ten minutes about a subject not involving making, fixing, or operating something — wander in when the sky chose to drench them, looking for a dry place to hunker down. They’d ask for a menu and when my father would point to the list of eight items we cooked on the wall, they would wrinkle their noses like mice sniffing a trap. To be fair, “cooked” was a liberal use of the term. We had a vat of semi-regularly changed synthetic oil that served to flash-fry the various food-like items we carried. My father only had the food because the late night drunks wanted something to soak up the alcohol before they tried to take a hover back to their apartments. I imagine many of those meals were hurled out the window at vomit-speed to rain down on unfortunate pedestrians.

So I only had my brief interactions with Senet Mehen and his museum of puzzles to judge him by. Mostly, I was at a loss. In my mind, I could replace him with a sorting robot and a programmed auto-pilot, and the ship would go on doing business without a hitch.

And maybe that was the problem. He didn’t understand, nor care, about people. We were a blank wall to him. Heck, my initial message to him was a spam comm. I should have been more suspicious when it got a reply. Normal people knew enough about Human nature to ignore messages like that. Instead, all he cared about was his puzzles and nothing else, which, honestly, seemed a little sad to me. I wondered about the kind of childhood that would drive him away from Humanity, to hide in a box flying through space.

It might seem hypocritical for me to think that, given my plan to do something vaguely similar, but it wasn’t the travel between the star systems that interested me. I wanted to know the people at each destination, learn about their customs, be grossed out by their meals, dance awkwardly at their parties, laugh at their jokes.

Frustrated and chilled, with no way to influence Senet Mehen at my disposal, I stared at the puzzle tower on the table. The jagged, fractal-like pieces were meant to scissor together in three dimensions, creating a wooden sculpture.

On their own, the pieces seemed impossible to decipher. I’d put together jigsaw puzzles on my mobi when I was a young girl, but with those there was always a picture to give a clue to the final result. With this one there seemed to be no target shape to shoot for. The maddening interlocking pieces had to be fitted together in ways that seemed random to create the final shape, and the only clues the creator had given were in the form of wispy lines on the individual pieces.

I wasn’t a puzzle expert by any means, but I was surprised by Senet Mehen’s inability to solve it, if, as he said, it was only supposed to be of a moderate difficulty.

Which got me thinking: what if didn’t require raw problem solving skills but something else which Senet Mehen lacked?

I didn’t know how long I had until we reached the Magnus jump point, but if I could figure the puzzle out before then, I had a chance.

I quickly started organizing the pieces, trying to understand how they fit together. At first, I tried to match the geometric shapes, but decided that Senet Mehen had probably tried that, so I shouldn’t bother. That line of thinking eliminated a few other strategies. Basically anything involving geometry, physics, or mathematics.

Each piece had wispy ink-drawn lines that made me think of map contours. They tickled my memory, but I couldn’t pick out what they were trying to represent. Each section was thin enough not to give enough information.

Rather than look at the pieces, I thought about what they could represent that Senet Mehen wouldn’t be able to figure out given a significant amount of time. When I caught my reflection on the highly polished table I knew the answer: faces.

Senet Mehen knew nothing about people, therefore he wouldn’t know how to interpret faces. I’d heard that sociopaths saw others as interchangeable and disposable in their self-mythologized universe.

It didn’t take me long to construct a partial face given a dozen pieces. A woman’s wind-swept hair and forehead with arched eyebrows formed on the curved wooden section.

In case Senet Mehen was watching me on a video feed, I stopped solving the puzzle and quickly mixed up the pieces. Then I started taking pictures and used my mobi to study them further. In doing so, I figured out that the goal of the puzzle was to make interlocking sheets. The faces helped you put the sheets together and then the sheets had to be fit together to form a larger picture. The shapes of the outside pieces would create a wooden head.

After organizing the pictures I took and writing a few instructions, I went to the intercom at the front of the cargo bay.

“Hello, Senet Mehen. I need to speak about the puzzle you have on your table,” I said.

“I’ve already explained that I will not be intimidated, and destroying anything will only put your life at risk,” he said.

“What if I told you I know how to solve it?” I asked, as my lips curled into a grin.

After a few moments, he replied, “I’d say you are a liar. I checked my feeds and the puzzle looks exactly as it was when I left it.”

“Oh, I haven’t put it together,” I said, “but I figured out how to do so. The rest is a formality. It was quite simple really. I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out months ago. How long ago did you say you started working on it?”

The comm crackled with static and then I heard a muffled rage-scream through the metal wall.

I had his attention, but was a little worried I’d pushed him too far. I listened for the recyclers to stop their humming.

After a few minutes, he replied, “What do you want?”

“Drop me off at Green. The planet’s not far from the Magnus jump point, so it wouldn’t be out of your way,” I said, taking a deep breath. “And in return, I’ll tell you how to solve the puzzle.”

“No, it’s a trick. There’s no way someone like you—”

Heat rose in my chest. “Someone like me?! Yeah, maybe I grew up slinging drinks to gristle-faced workers, listening to their complaints — not all unwarranted! — about how they’ve spent their lives getting screwed. But at least I tried to get out. To be better. I may be common to someone like you, but I figured out your damn puzzle, in a few short hours, I might add, and if you want to know how to put it together, I’ll send you a file explaining the missing link that’s kept you from solving it. But I won’t send it to you until I’m safely off at Green, no earlier, no later. Do we have a deal?”

The outburst felt entirely too good, but I worried I’d gone too far. The silence was oppressive.

When the comm crackled to life, I closed my eyes and crossed my fingers.

“I will reroute my journey for Green in exchange for the solution,” he said. “Prepare for disembarking in five point two hours.”

Relief flooded my limbs. I sunk to the floor and put my head in my hands. I was back on track. In fact, since Ellis was a jump closer to Tyrol, by the end of this whole mess on Dodecahedron, I’d wind up saving some time.

When we neared a small transfer hub on a far orbit around Green, I took off the EVA suit that I’d been keeping on for warmth, and started searching for a ship headed to Taranis system once my mobiGlas linked up.

There were no wet-eyed goodbyes when I left Dodecahedron, but I stayed long enough for him to check the solution. His eyes widened when he saw why the puzzle had resisted his efforts to solve it.

“That was quite remarkable. Do you have time to look at another puzzle that’s been plaguing me?” he asked.

I was so incredulous at his offer that I almost forgot to respond. “No, sorry. I have another ship to catch.”

“Ah,” he said. “Farewell and good luck.”

I’d landed in time to catch a low-rent transport to Bethor on the surface of Taranis III and didn’t want to miss it. I made Filigree Angel with time to spare.

The ship was wonderfully boring with my newfound love for beige carpets and comfortable seating. The journey was uneventful, but despite the lack of stimulus, I couldn’t sleep. Landing at Bethor would put me over halfway to my destination. In fact, I found two more trips that lined up perfectly, getting me to Tyrol IV with a half a day to spare. I could practically taste the credits rolling into my account. One year closer to my dream ship, the Aurora LX. I hadn’t dared name her yet, feeling that was too presumptuous, but when that day came, it would be glorious.

[31:05:05]

The approach to Taranis III was spectacular. The storm-covered planet crackled with electricity. The northern hemisphere was cast in darkness, which highlighted trails of glowing gas that weaved through the upper atmosphere. It was like giant luminescent constrictors, a thousand kilometers long, were snaking through the sky.

The only blemish I could see on the planet was a blue domed station hovering high above the equator. Bethor was home to a large settlement of Tevarin and Human refugees and expatriates; basically, anyone looking to escape the reach of the Empire for one reason or another. The cloud city was one of the more civilized parts of uncivilized space.

No time to fully appreciate it, though. I’d have to come back one day when I didn’t have a countdown hanging over my head. It was only a brief stopover before I managed to book another ship to Tangaroa in the Helios system.

[22:13:56]

Other than the pilot who liked to sing a little bit too much for my taste, the flight to Helios was as smooth as could be. It was the traffic outside of the Tangaroa transfer junction that was the problem. Ships were backed up in a long queue waiting for clearance to land at the busy station. About half of them were starliners filled with tourists who had come to vacation along the ocean planet’s temporary beaches or subsurf beneath its massive waves. Another place to add to my running “come back and visit” list.

It was about another hour before we were able to land and by that point I really was regretting not having the EVA suit with me. Jumping out of the ship would have been preferable to hearing another verse of the pilot’s favorite song, “No Room for Love.”

After moving through the security, I made my way across the station towards my next flight. The press of people was a little overwhelming and with the exhaustion of the trip settling on my bones, I almost didn’t see her before it was too late.

Betrix LaGrange was coming out of another tunnel, blonde hair bobbing to a beat as she was listening to her mobiGlas. She stopped momentarily to adjust her right shoe.

I used her distraction to turn and walk right through the nearest door. A male voice cleared his throat. I looked around and realized that the door I had chosen blindly was the men’s bathroom.

I moved into a stall before anyone else came in, sat down, and contemplated my next move.

What was Betrix doing here? Did she have a plan to steal the case from me or was this pure coincidence? Suddenly, the way to Tyrol IV seemed laden with danger.

I checked my messages from FTL, finding a list of deliveries due in the next two days. Somehow, I’d been signed up without my consent and the normal protocols about such things overridden.

“What the—?”

It clicked into place. Betrix must have had her boyfriend overload my schedule to force me to make a decision between keeping my job at FTL and making it to Tyrol IV. The due dates were manageable, assuming I left right now and headed back towards Sol. There were enough deliveries that if I missed them, I’d be put on probation, which in company terms was just a formality before firing. Canceling jobs once you accepted them was nearly as bad.

I punched the plastic wall as hard as I could. It hurt.

“Is there a problem?” came a deep voice from the other side.

“No TP,” I said, lowering my voice.

A roll wrapped in white cellophane was shoved under the wall. The quick response caught my notice, so I leaned down. On the other side of the wall was a stack of toilet paper, neatly placed into rows or stacked into towers and pyramids. The gentleman in the next stall seemed to be hoarding them.

“No thanks,” I said. “I have some napkins.”

Turning back to my current dilemma, Betrix had me cornered. I knew she was counting on me to abandon the delivery and save my job, so she could swoop in and take the case from me when I did. I bit my lower lip. I’d survived a life-support malfunction and a space-faring lunatic. I wasn’t going to be stopped by little-miss-hagfish.

The toilet on the other side of the TP-hoarding gentleman flushed, which reminded me where I was hiding. While squeezing my nose closed because of the smell wafting under the wall, I studied the list. If I made the freelance delivery, and then prioritized two of the other six deliveries using non-commercial ships while ignoring the rest, I would barely stay above probation. The gambit would cost me more credits against my expected returns, and I wouldn’t be able to make a mistake for another two years, but it could work.

Of course, all that was counting on Betrix not having some other backup strategy in place, like knocking me over the head with a hammer or something equally desperate. To be safe, I should make sure to get to my flight without encountering her.

Exiting the stall, I was greeted by a janitor in a blue-green jumpsuit and company hat, with a spray bottle in one hand and a rag in the other. His cart was loaded down with cleaning supplies. He acknowledged my gender with a heavy blink, before moving on with wiping down the sink.

I wrinkled my forehead and nose, not because of the awful smell still lingering in the men’s room, but due to an idea that came to me like a supernova.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Would you like to make a few credits?”

[20:58:44]

The janitor’s clothes weren’t as baggy as the EVA suit, but they did the trick. I wasn’t as worried about my outfit as I was the silvery case. Which was why I’d bribed the janitor to borrow his cart, too. The silvery case was buried beneath the cleaning supplies.

Betrix had positioned herself near a tunnel to the other section where my departing ship was waiting. She was scanning the people as they went past her.

I kept my head down, so the hat covered my face, and kept moving. The station was busy enough that Betrix would have to focus on looking for the silvery case. It was quite distinctive. I had to hope that was enough to get me past her.

As I neared her position, I held my breath. Betrix was standing on her tippy-toes trying to see over the crowd. As I approached, I was certain she’d notice my baggy jumpsuit and realize it was me beneath the hat.

But as quickly as I approached, I was past her and headed down the tube. Another fifty meters further, I took off the jumpsuit and liberated the case, leaving the cart where the janitor told me to. Then I hurried towards my destination, hoping they’d let me board early in case Betrix came looking for me.

The departure gate was in sight when I saw the security detail close the door. My mobi indicated that I wasn’t late. I was confused until I noticed the displays on the wall listing all commercial flights cancelled.

Was Betrix more powerful and desperate than I had given her credit for?

A few irate customers had already lined up at the commercial counter. I knew I wouldn’t learn anything there, but I spied a knot of security guards talking by a vending machine. As discreetly as I could, I feigned fixing my boot laces, while I listened to their conversation.

“. . . don’t know why, just that we’re on lockdown . . .”

“. . . it’s a medical quarantine. A code yellow, so not deadly, but they don’t want it to get out. Makes people act loopy. Heard that the first guy who was sick had pulled out his hair one by one . . .”

“. . . dammit, this means I’ll miss my son’s sataball game . . .”

“. . . at least we’ll get hazard overtime . . .”

“. . . they say how it’s transmitted?”

“. . . a contact virus, so unless it got picked up by the foodies, it shouldn’t spread too quickly . . .”

Crite. Quarantine. Who knows how long that might last?

With the commercial ships shut down, there’d be no way off the station, unless I could find a captain willing to break quarantine. As I started walking back towards the main terminal, I dug through the ship list, looking for small ships with newer ID numbers. Those would give me the best chance, since they probably needed the credits most. The likelihood that they would take me was small, but I had to try.

I’d identified three ships that might take me when I heard my name spoken with well-worn disdain.

“Sorri Lyrax,” said Betrix, standing with her arms crossed. “It doesn’t look like you’ll be making your delivery.”

“If you haven’t noticed, nobody’s leaving the station, which means you too,” I said. “Neither of us is going to deliver the job right now.”

When the self-satisfied smug smile appeared on her lips, I knew she had a ship waiting that would take her and the case directly to Tyrol IV. Betrix wasn’t above using unorthodox methods either, it seemed.

“Hand over the case. You had a good run, but it ends here. I’ll give you five percent, as a token gesture of good faith,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Why do you even want this job so bad?” I asked.

“I’m saving up to buy a ship, you ninny,” she said. “An Aurora LX. Best long-range hauler for a freelance courier. Comfortable as sin. I have a replica patent leather captain’s chair in my apartment on Saisei, just waiting to be installed in it.”

The fire in her eyes practically glowed. Though I didn’t agree with her methods, I knew exactly what drove her. It was what was pushing me to take chances with every delivery. Knowing this made me realize, as much as I loathed to admit it, that we might actually have something in common.

“Why?” I persisted.

“What’s with all the questions?” asked Betrix, glancing around as if she thought it might be a trick.

“Humor me, and I might hand over the case,” I said.

Betrix visibly recoiled, as if that act seemed ridiculous under the circumstances. She almost ignored my question, but then her lower lip tightened, as if memories came bubbling up unwarranted.

“I never want to be stuck on any planet. Ever. Space is the only place you can be safe and free,” she said.

Whatever fire was burning in her eyes became eclipsed by darkness. I didn’t even want to know what had caused her that amount of pain. And as much as I hated every slimy inch of her guts, I wanted to give her a hug.

While I mulled the insane idea that I was about to offer, I noticed something odd going on with the nearby fruit vendor. He’d taken his wares and dumped them onto the floor and was sorting them into groups by shape and color. The passengers in the area were giving him a wide berth.

It wasn’t the only oddity in the vicinity. A businessman had dumped his suitcase on the ground and was putting his clothes into piles. In the distance, I saw a group of people in yellow hazard suits marching in our direction.

Crite.

“Look, we shouldn’t be fighting,” I said in a hurried breath. “We both want the same thing. We’re both smart, savvy and driven. But our competition is costing us credits, when we could be working as a team. What if we made the delivery together, and then pooled our credits to purchase an Aurora and had it modified for a crew of two? Yes, I know, we’d probably still hate each other, but it’d only be for a year or so, and after that, I’m sure we could earn enough to purchase a second ship and take our separate ways. Before you say no, think about it. It’ll knock years off our plans to be on our own. If we’re willing to put up with each other, I’m sure we could have a ship by the end of this year and be on our own within two.”

For a brief and wonderful moment, she was a totally different person. There wasn’t a shred of the self-absorbed, manipulative, hateful . . . sorry, went on a roll there. I gathered that no one had ever made an offer to work with her before. Suddenly, her stand-offish and often vicious behavior made sense, despite not knowing what original pain had caused it.

Then her features slowly started to harden, as if the frost in her soul was freezing its way up. By the time the words, “No, not ever,” reached her lips, I’d already formulated a new plan.

Fine. But don’t ever say I didn’t try.

I tried to move past Betrix, but she grabbed my arm. I swear she was an android in disguise by that grip.

“Let me go, Betrix,” I said.

“You’re not making that delivery,” she said, as she reached for the case.

I tried to pull my arm free, but she wouldn’t let me. The people around us began moving away, sensing the conflict. The people in hazard suits were approaching, and they were starting to notice us.

“Not now, Betrix, or you’ll get us both thrown in a private quarantine,” I said.

Either Betrix didn’t hear me or didn’t care, but she kept tugging on the case, trying to yank it from my grip. The yellow-suited authorities had shifted their path and were coming directly for us.

When I realized she wasn’t going to let go, I yelled, “She’s got it! She’s got it! She’s got the virus!”

Rule number six: Act like you know.

In moments of panic or confusion, be the person who takes charge so you can ensure the chaos forms around your needs.

It was another lesson that I’d learned from my father. On the occasions that the corrupt local police would come into the Golden Horde to solicit bribes, my father would ensure that an “incident” would occur down the street at the moment they arrived. In truth, he had a friend in the department who usually warned him when they were coming. My father would always be outside during the incident — usually a small fire, or reported purse-snatching — and he would start yelling at the police to go put out the fire or stop the thief, who was never caught. Despite their intentions in collecting monies rather than doing their job, they hated to be seen not doing simple police work when someone was highlighting a problem.

Thus, the hazard-suited folk, despite having multiple obvious virus outbreaks within visual distance, would tackle Betrix LaGrange when she tried to run away, or the other people in the terminal might see that they “weren’t doing their job.” Societal peer pressure is a bitch.

In the ensuing chaos, I slipped away then took off in a full sprint down the passage. At this point, it was total bedlam as a panic gripped the people in the station. I ran, not in the direction of those three ships, but in search of the ship that Betrix had hired. I just had to figure out which one it was first.

I thought it might be difficult until I pulled up the destinations of all the ships at Tangaroa. Two ships were headed to Tyrol IV, but one of them was commercial, which meant the other was Betrix’s ride: the aptly named Vengeance Valkyrie.

After a five-minute sprint across the station, my arm was shaking from carrying the silvery case. I had to hurry as more yellow-suits were arriving by the minute. Announcements went over the PA, asking everyone for cooperation. Uneasy fear hovered over the people like a dark cloud.

Signs of the virus could be seen everywhere. One woman in a white research jacket was disassembling the seats in a lounge using a screwdriver. She had the posts sitting in one pile, the seat backs in another, and was busy trying to rip the fabric loose to make a third. Another man was smearing condiments from the food area on the wall by color, while a third had pushed over a vending machine and was ripping out the guts to sort.

Vengeance Valkyrie was in a private bay. I ran towards the ship, waving the silvery case. The lift came down but when I pressed the button to send it up, a disembodied voice spoke through the comms.

“You’re not Betrix,” he said, in an accent I wasn’t familiar with. It sounded like he was trying to hide a formal education.

“I’m her partner. I got the case here, but she got detained. She said to make the delivery without her,” I said.

“That still doesn’t change the fact that you’re not Betrix. She hired me, so I’m waiting for her,” he said.

“How else would I have known to come for your ship if she hadn’t told me? Hurry up and let me on. If we don’t leave soon, they might bring in gunships to ensure a tight quarantine and you won’t get your bonus,” I said, guessing Betrix had offered one.

When static was my answer, I pressed the button again and said, “I’ll up your fee twenty percent.”

“How do I know you don’t have this virus that’s in the station?” he asked.

“I haven’t touched anyone,” I said, but realizing he wouldn’t understand that context, I elaborated, “the virus is transmitted by contact. I overheard the security talking.”

After a moment of silence, he said, “Twenty-five.”

“Deal,” I said, hoping that wasn’t too much.

When the platform started lifting into the ship, I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but until we were back in space, I didn’t dare.

The room behind the cabin wasn’t large, but it had a take-off chair. I strapped myself in after shoving the case beneath it.

“Ready!” I yelled, hoping he could hear me through the door.

I worried he wasn’t going to light his engines, especially when the internal lights switched off, leaving me in near-darkness, but then I felt a sudden wash of vertigo and realized we were moving. He’d untethered us from station gravity and we drifted away, spinning. The momentum dragged us towards the planet. Through the whirling viewport, I watched UEE emergency response vessels descend on the station.

The ship began to pick up speed as we hurled towards the planet. Sparks flashed across the viewport. I began to worry that the pilot had died, when at what felt like the last moment, he switched on the engines and propelled us through the atmosphere, coming out on the other side of the planet, away from the station and the incoming UEE ships.

After successfully escaping the quarantine, the ship headed towards the Tyrol jump point. The captain invited me into the forward cabin.

He was a ruggedly handsome man in his late thirties with olive skin and dark messy hair that went to his shoulders. He looked more at home in the wilderness on a wind-swept hilltop surrounded by alien trees than in a ship cabin. His teeth were a little crooked but that made his smile more endearing.

“Satchel,” he said, offering his hand.

We shook and I felt a warm tingle travel up my arm. Maybe this final leg of the journey wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Care for an orange?” he asked, offering the fruit after plucking it from a bag. “Helios has some of the best oranges. They taste like sunshine and beaches.”

“Sure,” I said, brushing his hand lightly when I accepted the orange.

He gave me a smile that made my face tingle.

Feeling a little worn out from my sprint through the station and general lack of sleep, I peeled my orange in quiet as we sped through the great emptiness. Using my fingernail, I broke the skin and started ripping back the peel. I put the orange against my nose. He was right. It smelled like sunshine. Sweet sugary sunshine, but sunshine none-the-less. I inhaled deeply. The smell took the edge off my exhaustion. Before I could rip off a wedge and plop it in my waiting mouth, I noticed Captain Satchel doing something strange in his lap.

He had his orange already peeled, but instead of eating it, he was piling up the identically sized pieces and arranging them on his leg. As soon as we shared a glance, I saw the fear in his eyes. He had the virus, which meant that I had it too, and we were too far away to get help.

[18:15:25]

To be continued…

Anmerkung des Autors: Der zweite Lauf: A Sorri Lyrax Delivery (Part Three) wurde ursprünglich in Jump Point 4.3 veröffentlicht. Du kannst Teil Eins hier und Teil Zwei hier lesen.
Teil 3: Verhalte dich so, als ob du weißt.
Das Dodekaeder hatte bereits das Kiliansystem durchlaufen und war auf dem besten Weg durch Ellis in Richtung Magnus-Sprung, wo es dann auf dem Weg nach Stanton weiterging. Die völlig entgegengesetzte Richtung dessen, wohin ich gehen wollte. Unter normalen Umständen hätte der Lotse des Schiffes seine Vereinbarung eingehalten und mich bereits an einem Starthafen abgesetzt, damit ich meine Reise nach Tirol IV fortsetzen und meine Lieferung pünktlich abschließen konnte. Normale Umstände könnten auch auf einen Sitzplatz hinweisen, der nicht mit leicht überfrierenden Schiffsböden und einer weniger als wahnsinnigen Anzahl von Holzspielen und Rätseln in meiner allgemeinen Umgebung verbunden war.

Aber nichts an Dodekaedern war bisher normal gewesen. Jetzt würde ich den Zeitplan verpassen und ich hätte mehr Geld bekommen, das ich nicht zurückbekommen konnte. Bei der Geschwindigkeit, mit der ich ging, würde ich meine Schiffsersparnisse aufbrauchen und bald wieder bei Null sein.

Ich hatte nicht aufgegeben, aber ich hatte keine Ideen mehr, wie ich ihn davon überzeugen könnte, mich zu einer Ellis-Station zu bringen. Ich hatte gedroht, seine Rätsel zu zerstören, aber er antwortete ruhig, dass er die Sauerstoffversorgung unterbrechen und meinen Körper aus der Luftschleuse werfen würde. Ich dachte zuerst, es wäre ein schlechter Witz. Aber da ich meine Reise auf Vita Perry und den Transfer nach Dodekaeder nicht registriert hatte, würde niemand jemals erfahren, dass er mich getötet hatte. Ich war seiner Gnade ausgeliefert.

Basierend auf den verdrehten Spielen in den Regalen sollte ich mich glücklich schätzen, dass er mich nicht ausgeknockt und in kleine Stücke geschnitten hatte.

Ich wusste nicht einmal wirklich, wie ich ihn lesen sollte. Männer wie er kamen nie in die Bar meines Vaters. Gelegentlich sahen wir "richtige Leute" - so nannte mein Vater jeden, der mehr als zehn Minuten lang über ein Thema sprechen konnte, das nichts mit dem Herstellen, Reparieren oder Bedienen zu tun hatte - hereinkommen, als der Himmel sich entschied, sie zu durchnässen und nach einem trockenen Ort zum Verstecken suchte. Sie baten um ein Menü, und wenn mein Vater auf die Liste der acht Gegenstände zeigte, die wir an der Wand gekocht hatten, knitterten sie mit den Nasen wie Mäuse, die an einer Falle schnüffelten. Um fair zu sein, "gekocht" war eine liberale Verwendung des Begriffs. Wir hatten eine Wanne mit halbwegs regelmäßig wechselndem synthetischem Öl, das dazu diente, die verschiedenen Lebensmittel, die wir trugen, zu flashen. Mein Vater hatte nur das Essen, weil die späten Betrunkenen etwas wollten, um den Alkohol aufzusaugen, bevor sie versuchten, einen Schwebeflug zurück in ihre Wohnungen zu nehmen. Ich stelle mir vor, dass viele dieser Mahlzeiten mit Brechgeschwindigkeit aus dem Fenster geworfen wurden, um auf unglückliche Fußgänger zu regnen.

So hatte ich nur meine kurzen Interaktionen mit Senet Mehen und seinem Rätselmuseum, nach denen ich ihn beurteilen konnte. Meistens war ich ratlos. Meiner Meinung nach könnte ich ihn durch einen Sortierroboter und einen programmierten Autopiloten ersetzen, und das Schiff würde ohne Probleme weitermachen.

Und vielleicht war das das Problem. Er verstand und interessierte sich nicht für Menschen. Wir waren eine leere Wand für ihn. Verdammt, meine erste Nachricht an ihn war ein Spam-Kommando. Ich hätte misstrauischer sein sollen, als es eine Antwort bekam. Normale Menschen wussten genug über die menschliche Natur, um solche Botschaften zu ignorieren. Stattdessen kümmerte er sich nur um seine Rätsel und nichts anderes, was mir ehrlich gesagt ein wenig traurig erschien. Ich fragte mich über die Art der Kindheit, die ihn von der Menschheit vertreiben würde, um sich in einer Kiste zu verstecken, die durch den Weltraum fliegt.

Es mag für mich heuchlerisch erscheinen, das zu denken, angesichts meines Plans, etwas vage Ähnliches zu tun, aber es war nicht die Reise zwischen den Sternensystemen, die mich interessierte. Ich wollte die Leute an jedem Zielort kennenlernen, ihre Bräuche kennenlernen, von ihren Mahlzeiten eingenommen werden, ungeschickt auf ihren Partys tanzen, über ihre Witze lachen.

Frustriert und entspannt, ohne die Möglichkeit, Senet Mehen zu beeinflussen, starrte ich auf den Rätselturm auf dem Tisch. Die zerklüfteten, fraktalen Stücke sollten dreidimensional zusammenschneiden und eine Holzskulptur bilden.

Allein schienen die Stücke unmöglich zu entziffern. Ich hatte schon als junges Mädchen Puzzles auf meinem Mobi zusammengestellt, aber bei denen gab es immer ein Bild, um einen Hinweis auf das Endergebnis zu geben. Bei diesem schien es keine Zielform zu geben, auf die man schießen könnte. Die verrückten, ineinandergreifenden Teile mussten auf scheinbar zufällige Weise zusammengefügt werden, um die endgültige Form zu erhalten, und die einzigen Hinweise, die der Schöpfer gegeben hatte, waren in Form von dürftigen Linien auf den einzelnen Teilen.

Ich war keineswegs ein Rätselexperte, aber ich war überrascht von Senet Mehens Unfähigkeit, es zu lösen, wenn es, wie er sagte, nur von mittlerer Schwierigkeit sein sollte.

Was mich zum Nachdenken brachte: Was wäre, wenn man nicht rohe Problemlösungsfähigkeiten voraussetzen würde, sondern etwas anderes, was Senet Mehen fehlte?

Ich wusste nicht, wie lange ich noch Zeit hatte, bis wir den Magnus-Sprungpunkt erreichten, aber wenn ich das Puzzle vorher herausfinden konnte, hatte ich eine Chance.

Ich fing schnell an, die Stücke zu organisieren und versuchte zu verstehen, wie sie zusammenpassen. Zuerst versuchte ich, die geometrischen Formen anzupassen, entschied aber, dass Senet Mehen das wahrscheinlich versucht hatte, also sollte ich mich nicht darum kümmern. Diese Denkweise eliminierte ein paar andere Strategien. Im Grunde alles, was mit Geometrie, Physik oder Mathematik zu tun hat.

Jedes Stück hatte zarte, tintengezeichnete Linien, die mich an Kartenkonturen denken ließen. Sie kitzelten mein Gedächtnis, aber ich konnte nicht herausfinden, was sie darstellen wollten. Jeder Abschnitt war dünn genug, um nicht genügend Informationen zu liefern.

Anstatt mir die Stücke anzusehen, dachte ich darüber nach, was sie darstellen könnten, dass Senet Mehen angesichts einer beträchtlichen Zeitspanne nicht in der Lage sein würde, es herauszufinden. Als ich auf dem hochglanzpolierten Tisch mein Spiegelbild sah, wusste ich die Antwort: Gesichter.

Senet Mehen wusste nichts über Menschen, deshalb wusste er nicht, wie man Gesichter interpretiert. Ich hatte gehört, dass Soziopathen andere als austauschbar und verfügbar in ihrem selbstmythologisierten Universum betrachten.

Es dauerte nicht lange, bis ich eine Teilfläche mit einem Dutzend Teilen konstruierte. Das windgepeitschte Haar und die Stirn einer Frau mit gewölbten Augenbrauen, die auf dem geschwungenen Holzteil geformt sind.

Falls Senet Mehen mich auf einem Video-Feed beobachtete, hörte ich auf, das Rätsel zu lösen und verwechselte schnell die Teile. Dann fing ich an, Fotos zu machen und benutzte mein Mobi, um sie weiter zu studieren. Dabei habe ich herausgefunden, dass das Ziel des Puzzles darin bestand, ineinandergreifende Platten herzustellen. Die Flächen halfen dir, die Blätter zusammenzusetzen, und dann mussten die Blätter zusammengefügt werden, um ein größeres Bild zu erhalten. Die Formen der Außenteile würden einen Holzkopf bilden.

Nachdem ich die Bilder organisiert und ein paar Anweisungen geschrieben hatte, ging ich zur Sprechanlage an der Vorderseite des Laderaums.

"Hallo, Senet Mehen. Ich muss über das Rätsel sprechen, das du auf deinem Tisch hast", sagte ich.

"Ich habe bereits erklärt, dass ich mich nicht einschüchtern lasse, und die Zerstörung von etwas wird nur dein Leben gefährden", sagte er.

"Was, wenn ich dir sage, dass ich weiß, wie man es löst?" fragte ich, als sich meine Lippen zu einem Grinsen zusammenrollen.

Nach ein paar Augenblicken antwortete er: "Ich würde sagen, dass du ein Lügner bist. Ich habe meine Feeds überprüft und das Puzzle sieht genau so aus, wie es war, als ich es verlassen habe."

"Oh, ich habe es nicht zusammengesetzt", sagte ich, "aber ich habe herausgefunden, wie man es macht. Der Rest ist eine Formalität. Es war wirklich ganz einfach. Ich bin überrascht, dass du es vor Monaten noch nicht herausgefunden hast. Wie lange ist es her, sagtest du, dass du angefangen hast, daran zu arbeiten?"

Sie knisterten vor Rauschen und dann hörte ich eine gedämpfte Wut-Schrei durch die Metallwand.

Ich hatte seine Aufmerksamkeit, war aber etwas besorgt, dass ich ihn zu weit getrieben hatte. Ich hörte auf die Recycler, die ihr Brummen beenden sollten.

Nach ein paar Minuten antwortete er: "Was willst du?"

"Setz mich bei Green ab. Der Planet ist nicht weit vom Magnus-Sprungpunkt entfernt, also wäre er nicht aus dem Weg", sagte ich und atmete tief durch. "Und im Gegenzug werde ich dir sagen, wie du das Rätsel lösen kannst."

"Nein, es ist ein Trick. Auf keinen Fall kann jemand wie du...."

Die Hitze stieg in meiner Brust auf. "Jemand wie ich?! Ja, vielleicht bin ich mit Drinks aufgewachsen, um Arbeiter mit knorrigen Gesichtern zu verwöhnen, und habe ihren Beschwerden zugehört - nicht nur ungerechtfertigt! - darüber, wie sie ihr Leben damit verbracht haben, gefickt zu werden. Aber wenigstens habe ich versucht, rauszukommen. Um besser zu sein. Ich mag jemand wie du gemeinsam haben, aber ich habe dein verdammtes Rätsel in ein paar kurzen Stunden herausgefunden, das ich hinzufügen möchte, und wenn du wissen willst, wie man es zusammensetzt, schicke ich dir eine Datei, die das fehlende Glied erklärt, das dich davon abgehalten hat, es zu lösen. Aber ich werde es dir erst schicken, wenn ich bei Green sicher bin, nicht früher und nicht später. Haben wir einen Deal?"

Der Ausbruch fühlte sich völlig zu gut an, aber ich hatte Angst, dass ich zu weit gegangen wäre. Die Stille war bedrückend.

Als das Komma zum Leben erwachte, schloss ich die Augen und drückte die Daumen.

"Ich werde meine Reise nach Grün im Austausch für die Lösung umleiten", sagte er. "Bereitet euch darauf vor, in fünf Minuten und zwei Stunden von Bord zu gehen."

Die Erleichterung überflutete meine Glieder. Ich sank auf den Boden und legte meinen Kopf in die Hände. Ich war wieder auf dem richtigen Weg. Da Ellis ein Sprung näher an Tirol war, würde ich am Ende dieses ganzen Durcheinanders am Dodekaeder etwas Zeit sparen.

Als wir uns einem kleinen Umsteigeknoten auf einer weiten Umlaufbahn um Grün näherten, zog ich den EVA-Anzug aus, den ich für die Wärme gehalten hatte, und machte mich auf die Suche nach einem Schiff, das zum Taranis-System fuhr, nachdem mein mobiGlas angeschlossen war.

Es gab keine nassen Verabschiedungen, als ich das Dodekaeder verließ, aber ich blieb lange genug, damit er die Lösung überprüfen konnte. Seine Augen weiteten sich, als er sah, warum sich das Puzzle seinen Bemühungen, es zu lösen, widersetzt hatte.

"Das war schon bemerkenswert. Hast du Zeit, dir ein weiteres Rätsel anzusehen, das mich geplagt hat?" fragte er.

Ich war so ungläubig über sein Angebot, dass ich fast vergessen hätte zu antworten. "Nein, tut mir leid. Ich muss noch ein anderes Schiff erwischen."

"Ah", sagte er. "Lebt wohl und viel Glück."

Ich war rechtzeitig gelandet, um einen günstigen Transport nach Bethor auf der Oberfläche von Taranis III zu erwischen, und wollte es nicht verpassen. Ich habe Filigrane Angel mit Zeit zur Verfügung gestellt.

Das Schiff war wunderbar langweilig mit meiner neu entdeckten Liebe zu beigen Teppichen und bequemen Sitzen. Die Reise war ereignislos, aber trotz des fehlenden Reizes konnte ich nicht schlafen. Die Landung in Bethor würde mich auf halbem Weg zu meinem Ziel bringen. Tatsächlich fand ich zwei weitere Ausflüge, die perfekt aufeinander abgestimmt waren und mich mit einem halben Tag Aufenthalt nach Tirol IV brachten. Ich konnte praktisch die Credits schmecken, die in mein Konto flossen. Ein Jahr näher an meinem Traumschiff, der Aurora LX. Ich hatte es noch nicht gewagt, sie zu benennen, das Gefühl, dass das zu anmaßend war, aber wenn dieser Tag kam, würde es herrlich sein.

[31:05:05]

Die Annäherung an Taranis III war spektakulär. Der sturmgepeitschte Planet knisterte mit Strom. Die Nordhalbkugel war in Dunkelheit gehüllt, was Spuren von glühendem Gas hervorhob, die durch die obere Atmosphäre flossen. Es war, als würden sich riesige, tausend Kilometer lange, leuchtende Konstriktoren durch den Himmel schlängeln.

Der einzige Fehler, den ich auf dem Planeten sehen konnte, war eine blau gewölbte Station, die hoch über dem Äquator schwebte. Bethor war die Heimat einer großen Siedlung von Tevarin- und Menschenflüchtlingen und Expatriates; im Grunde genommen jeder, der aus dem einen oder anderen Grund der Reichweite des Imperiums entfliehen wollte. Die Wolkenstadt war einer der zivilisierteren Teile des unzivilisierten Raums.

Aber keine Zeit, es zu schätzen. Ich müsste eines Tages zurückkommen, wenn mir kein Countdown über den Kopf hängt. Es war nur ein kurzer Zwischenstopp, bevor es mir gelang, ein weiteres Schiff nach Tangaroa im Helios-System zu buchen.

[22:13:56]

Abgesehen von dem Piloten, der gerne ein wenig zu viel für meinen Geschmack sang, war der Flug nach Helios so reibungslos wie möglich. Es war der Verkehr außerhalb des Transferknotens Tangaroa, der das Problem darstellte. Die Schiffe wurden in einer langen Warteschlange gesichert, die auf die Freigabe zur Landung am geschäftigen Bahnhof wartete. Etwa die Hälfte von ihnen waren Sternenhimmel voller Touristen, die in den Urlaub an den vorübergehenden Stränden des Ozeanplaneten gekommen waren oder unter seinen massiven Wellen subsurfen. Ein weiterer Ort, um meine laufende "Come back and visit"-Liste zu erweitern.

Es dauerte etwa eine weitere Stunde, bis wir landen konnten, und zu diesem Zeitpunkt bedauerte ich wirklich, dass ich den EVA-Anzug nicht dabei hatte. Aus dem Schiff zu springen wäre besser gewesen, als einen weiteren Vers aus dem Lieblingslied des Piloten zu hören, "No Room for Love".

Nachdem ich durch die Sicherheitskontrolle gegangen war, machte ich mich auf den Weg über die Station zu meinem nächsten Flug. Die Presse der Leute war ein wenig überwältigend und mit der Erschöpfung der Reise, die sich auf meinen Knochen niederließ, sah ich sie fast nicht, bevor es zu spät war.

Betrix LaGrange kam aus einem anderen Tunnel, blonde Haare wackelten zu einem Beat, als sie ihr mobiGlas hörte. Sie hielt kurz an, um ihren rechten Schuh anzupassen.

Ich benutzte ihre Ablenkung, um mich zu drehen und direkt durch die nächste Tür zu gehen. Eine männliche Stimme räusperte sich. Ich sah mich um und erkannte, dass die Tür, die ich blind gewählt hatte, die Herrentoilette war.

Ich ging in einen Stall, bevor jemand anderes hereinkam, setzte mich hin und dachte über meinen nächsten Zug nach.

Was wollte Betrix hier? Hatte sie einen Plan, mir den Fall zu stehlen, oder war das reiner Zufall? Plötzlich schien der Weg nach Tirol IV voller Gefahren.

Ich überprüfte meine Nachrichten vom FTL und fand eine Liste der Lieferungen, die in den nächsten zwei Tagen fällig waren. Irgendwie war ich ohne meine Zustimmung angemeldet worden und die normalen Protokolle über solche Dinge wurden überschrieben.

"Was zum...?"

Es raste ein. Betrix muss ihren Freund dazu gebracht haben, meinen Zeitplan zu überladen, um mich zu zwingen, eine Entscheidung zu treffen, zwischen dem Halten meines Jobs bei FTL und dem Treffen in Tirol IV. Die Fälligkeitstermine waren überschaubar, vorausgesetzt, ich bin gerade gegangen und bin zurück nach Sol gefahren. Es gab genug Lieferungen, dass, wenn ich sie verpassen würde, ich auf Bewährung gesetzt würde, was im Unternehmen nur eine Formalität vor dem Brand war. Jobs zu stornieren, sobald Sie sie angenommen haben, war fast genauso schlimm.

Ich schlug so hart ich konnte auf die Kunststoffwand. Es tat weh.

"Gibt es ein Problem?" kam eine tiefe Stimme von der anderen Seite.

"Kein TP", sagte ich und senkte meine Stimme.

Eine mit weißem Zellophan umhüllte Rolle wurde unter die Wand geschoben. Die schnelle Reaktion fiel mir auf, also lehnte ich mich nach unten. Auf der anderen Seite der Wand befand sich ein Stapel Toilettenpapier, der ordentlich in Reihen gelegt oder zu Türmen und Pyramiden gestapelt war. Der Herr im nächsten Stall schien sie zu horten.

"Nein danke", sagte ich. "Ich habe ein paar Servietten."

Um auf mein aktuelles Dilemma zurückzukommen, ließ Betrix mich in die Enge treiben. Ich wusste, dass sie darauf zählte, dass ich die Lieferung aufgeben und meinen Job retten würde, damit sie hereinkommen und den Fall von mir übernehmen konnte, als ich es tat. Ich biss mir auf die Unterlippe. Ich hatte eine lebenserhaltende Fehlfunktion und einen raumfliegenden Irren überlebt. Ich wollte nicht von Klein-Miss-Hungern aufgehalten werden.

Die Toilette auf der anderen Seite des TP-Hortenden Herrn errötete, was mich daran erinnerte, wo ich mich versteckte. Während ich meine Nase wegen des Geruchs, der unter der Wand weht, geschlossen drückte, studierte ich die Liste. Wenn ich die freiberufliche Lieferung durchführen und dann zwei der anderen sechs Lieferungen mit nicht-kommerziellen Schiffen priorisieren würde, während ich den Rest ignoriere, würde ich kaum über der Bewährungsstrafe bleiben. Der Gambit würde mich mehr Credits kosten, wenn ich meine Renditeerwartungen erfüllen könnte, und ich könnte für weitere zwei Jahre keinen Fehler machen, aber es könnte funktionieren.

Natürlich zählte all das darauf, dass Betrix keine andere Backup-Strategie hatte, wie z.B. mich mit einem Hammer über den Kopf zu schlagen oder etwas ähnlich Verzweifeltes. Um sicher zu sein, sollte ich sicherstellen, dass ich zu meinem Flug komme, ohne ihr zu begegnen.

Als ich den Stand verließ, wurde ich von einem Hausmeister in einem blaugrünen Overall und Firmenhut begrüßt, mit einer Sprühflasche in der einen Hand und einem Lappen in der anderen. Sein Wagen war mit Reinigungsmitteln beladen. Er bestätigte mein Geschlecht mit einem heftigen Blinzeln, bevor er mit dem Abwischen der Spüle weitermachte.

Ich runzelte Stirn und Nase, nicht wegen des schrecklichen Geruchs, der noch in der Herrentoilette verweilt, sondern wegen einer Idee, die wie eine Supernova zu mir kam.

"Entschuldigung", sagte ich. "Möchtest du ein paar Credits machen?"

[20:58:44]

Die Kleidung des Hausmeisters war nicht so ausgeleiert wie der EVA-Anzug, aber sie haben es geschafft. Ich war nicht so besorgt um mein Outfit wie um den silbernen Fall. Deshalb hatte ich den Hausmeister bestochen, um mir auch seinen Wagen zu leihen. Die silberne Hülse wurde unter den Reinigungsmitteln vergraben.

Betrix hatte sich in der Nähe eines Tunnels zu dem anderen Abschnitt positioniert, auf dem mein abfahrendes Schiff wartete. Sie scannte die Leute, als sie an ihr vorbeikamen.

Ich hielt meinen Kopf unten, also bedeckte der Hut mein Gesicht und bewegte mich weiter. Die Station war so beschäftigt, dass Betrix sich auf die Suche nach dem silbernen Koffer konzentrieren musste. Es war sehr ausgeprägt. Ich musste hoffen, dass das genug war, um mich an ihr vorbeizubringen.

Als ich mich ihrer Position näherte, hielt ich den Atem an. Betrix stand auf ihren Zehenspitzen und versuchte, über die Menge hinwegzusehen. Als ich mich näherte, war ich mir sicher, dass sie meinen ausgeleierten Overall bemerken würde und erkannte, dass ich es unter dem Hut war.

Aber als ich mich näherte, war ich an ihr vorbei und ging die Röhre hinunter. Noch fünfzig Meter weiter zog ich den Overall aus, befreite den Koffer und verließ den Wagen, wozu mir der Hausmeister sagte. Dann eilte ich zu meinem Ziel und hoffte, dass sie mich früh an Bord lassen würden, falls Betrix nach mir suchen würde.

Der Abfluggate war in Sichtweite, als ich sah, wie die Sicherheitskräfte die Tür schlossen. Mein Mobi sagte, dass ich nicht zu spät komme. Ich war verwirrt, bis ich die Anzeigen an der Wand bemerkte, die alle annullierten kommerziellen Flüge auflisten.

War Betrix mächtiger und verzweifelter, als ich ihr zugeschrieben hatte?

Einige wütende Kunden hatten sich bereits an der Verkaufstheke angestellt. Ich wusste, dass ich dort nichts lernen würde, aber ich beobachtete einen Knoten von Sicherheitskräften, die an einem Automaten sprachen. So diskret ich konnte, täuschte ich vor, meine Schnürsenkel zu reparieren, während ich ihrem Gespräch zuhörte.

“. ... weiß nicht warum, nur dass wir abgeriegelt sind...."

“. ...es ist eine medizinische Quarantäne. Ein Code gelb, also nicht tödlich, aber sie wollen nicht, dass er rauskommt. Lässt die Leute verrückt spielen. Ich hörte, dass der erste Typ, der krank war, sich die Haare einzeln herausgezogen hatte...."

“. ...verdammt, das bedeutet, dass ich das Sataballspiel meines Sohnes vermissen werde...."

“. ...zumindest bekommen wir gefährliche Überstunden...."

“. ...sagen sie, wie es übertragen wird?"

“. ... ein Kontaktvirus, also sollte es sich nicht zu schnell verbreiten, es sei denn, es wurde von den Feinschmeckern aufgenommen...."

Höflich. Quarantäne. Wer weiß, wie lange das dauern könnte?

Wenn die kommerziellen Schiffe abgeschaltet wären, gäbe es keinen Weg von der Station, es sei denn, ich könnte einen Kapitän finden, der bereit ist, die Quarantäne zu durchbrechen. Als ich anfing, zurück zum Hauptterminal zu gehen, grub ich die Schiffsliste durch und suchte nach kleinen Schiffen mit neueren ID-Nummern. Diese würden mir die beste Chance geben, da sie wahrscheinlich die meisten Credits benötigten. Die Wahrscheinlichkeit, dass sie mich mitnehmen würden, war gering, aber ich musste es versuchen.

Ich hatte drei Schiffe identifiziert, die mich mitnehmen könnten, als ich meinen Namen mit ausgetretener Verachtung sprechen hörte.

"Sorri Lyrax", sagte Betrix und stand mit verschränkten Armen da. "Es sieht nicht so aus, als würdest du deine Lieferung machen."

"Wenn du es nicht bemerkt hast, niemand verlässt den Bahnhof, was auch dich bedeutet", sagte ich. "Keiner von uns beiden wird den Auftrag jetzt erfüllen."

Als das selbstzufriedene, selbstgefällige Lächeln auf ihren Lippen erschien, wusste ich, dass sie ein Schiff hatte, das auf sie und den Fall direkt nach Tirol IV warten würde. Betrix war auch nicht darüber hinaus, unorthodoxe Methoden zu verwenden, wie es schien.

" Gib mir den Fall. Du hattest einen guten Lauf, aber er endet hier. Ich gebe dir fünf Prozent, als Zeichen des guten Willens", sagte sie und streckte ihre Hand aus.

"Warum willst du diesen Job überhaupt so sehr?" fragte ich.

"Ich spare, um ein Schiff zu kaufen, du Idiot", sagte sie. " Eine Aurora LX. Bester Langstreckenspediteur für einen freiberuflichen Kurier. Bequem wie die Sünde. Ich habe einen Nachbau eines Kapitänsstuhls aus Lackleder in meiner Wohnung auf Saisei, der nur darauf wartet, darin installiert zu werden."

Das Feuer in ihren Augen leuchtete praktisch. Obwohl ich mit ihren Methoden nicht einverstanden war, wusste ich genau, was sie antreibt. Es war das, was mich dazu brachte, bei jeder Lieferung ein Risiko einzugehen. Das zu wissen, ließ mich erkennen, so sehr ich es auch verabscheute, dass wir vielleicht tatsächlich etwas gemeinsam haben.

" Warum?" Ich bestand darauf.

"Was ist mit all den Fragen?" fragte Betrix und blickte sich um, als ob sie dachte, dass es ein Trick wäre.

"Stimm mir zu, und ich könnte den Fall übergeben", sagte ich.

Betrix schlug sichtlich zurück, als ob dieser Akt unter den gegebenen Umständen lächerlich schien. Sie ignorierte fast meine Frage, aber dann straffte sich ihre Unterlippe, als ob Erinnerungen unberechtigterweise aufflammten.

"Ich will nie auf irgendeinem Planeten festsitzen. Niemals. Der Weltraum ist der einzige Ort, an dem man sicher und frei sein kann", sagte sie.

Was auch immer in ihren Augen brannte, wurde von der Dunkelheit verdunkelt. Ich wollte nicht einmal wissen, was ihr diese Menge an Schmerzen bereitet hatte. Und so sehr ich auch jeden schleimigen Zentimeter ihrer Eingeweide hasste, ich wollte sie umarmen.

Während ich über die verrückte Idee nachdachte, die ich im Begriff war anzubieten, bemerkte ich etwas Seltsames mit dem nahegelegenen Obsthändler. Er hatte seine Waren genommen und auf den Boden geworfen und sortierte sie nach Form und Farbe in Gruppen. Die Passagiere in der Gegend legten ihm einen weiten Bogen.

Es war nicht die einzige Besonderheit in der Nähe. Ein Geschäftsmann hatte seinen Koffer auf den Boden geworfen und legte seine Kleider in Haufen. In der Ferne sah ich eine Gruppe von Menschen in gelben Gefahrenanzügen, die in unsere Richtung marschierten.

Höflich.

"Schau, wir sollten nicht streiten", sagte ich in einem eiligen Atemzug. "Wir wollen beide das Gleiche. Wir sind beide klug, klug und motiviert. Aber unsere Konkurrenz kostet uns Kredite, wenn wir als Team arbeiten könnten. Was wäre, wenn wir die Lieferung gemeinsam durchführen und dann unsere Kredite bündeln würden, um eine Aurora zu kaufen und sie für eine Crew von zwei Personen modifizieren zu lassen? Ja, ich weiß, wir würden uns wahrscheinlich immer noch hassen, aber es wäre nur für ein Jahr oder so, und danach bin ich sicher, dass wir genug verdienen könnten, um ein zweites Schiff zu kaufen und unsere getrennten Wege zu gehen. Bevor du nein sagst, denk darüber nach. Es wird unsere Pläne, auf sich allein gestellt zu sein, um Jahre hinauszögern. Wenn wir bereit sind, uns gegenseitig zu ertragen, bin ich sicher, dass wir bis Ende dieses Jahres ein Schiff haben und in zwei Minuten allein sein könnten."

Für einen kurzen und wunderbaren Moment war sie ein ganz anderer Mensch. Es gab nicht einen Funken von dem selbstaufgenommenen, manipulativen, hasserfüllten.... sorry, ging dort auf eine Rolle. Ich stellte fest, dass noch nie jemand ein Angebot gemacht hatte, mit ihr zusammenzuarbeiten. Plötzlich machte ihr abweisendes und oft bösartiges Verhalten Sinn, obwohl sie nicht wusste, was der ursprüngliche Schmerz verursacht hatte.

Dann begannen sich ihre Gesichtszüge langsam zu verhärten, als ob der Frost in ihrer Seele ihren Weg nach oben einfrieren würde. Als die Worte "Nein, niemals" ihre Lippen erreichten, hatte ich bereits einen neuen Plan formuliert.

Gut. Aber sag nicht, dass ich es nicht versucht habe.

Ich versuchte, an Betrix vorbeizukommen, aber sie packte meinen Arm. Ich schwöre, sie war ein Androide, der sich durch diesen Griff verkleidet hat.

"Lass mich gehen, Betrix", sagte ich.

"Du machst diese Lieferung nicht", sagte sie, als sie nach dem Fall griff.

Ich versuchte, meinen Arm frei zu ziehen, aber sie wollte mich nicht lassen. Die Menschen um uns herum begannen sich zu entfernen und spürten den Konflikt. Die Leute in den Gefahrenanzügen näherten sich, und sie begannen, uns zu bemerken.

"Nicht jetzt, Betrix, sonst werden wir beide in eine private Quarantäne gesteckt", sagte ich.

Entweder hörte Betrix mich nicht oder es war ihr egal, aber sie zog weiter an dem Fall und versuchte, ihn aus meinem Griff zu ziehen. Die gelb gekleideten Behörden hatten ihren Weg geändert und kamen direkt zu uns.

Als mir klar wurde, dass sie nicht loslassen würde, schrie ich: "Sie hat es geschafft! Sie hat es geschafft! Sie hat den Virus!"

Regel Nummer sechs: Verhalte dich, als ob du es wüsstest.

In Momenten der Panik oder Verwirrung, sei die Person, die die Verantwortung übernimmt, damit du sicherstellen kannst, dass sich das Chaos um deine Bedürfnisse herum bildet.

Es war eine weitere Lektion, die ich von meinem Vater gelernt hatte. Bei den Gelegenheiten, bei denen die korrupte lokale Polizei in die Goldene Horde kam, um Bestechungsgelder zu erbitten, sorgte mein Vater dafür, dass sich in dem Moment, in dem sie ankam, ein "Vorfall" ereignen würde. In Wahrheit hatte er einen Freund in der Abteilung, der ihn normalerweise warnte, wenn sie kamen. Mein Vater war während des Vorfalls immer draußen - normalerweise ein kleines Feuer oder ein gemeldeter Taschendiebstahl - und er fing an, die Polizei anzuschreien, um das Feuer zu löschen oder den Dieb zu stoppen, der nie erwischt wurde. Trotz ihrer Absichten, Geld zu sammeln und nicht zu arbeiten, hassten sie es, gesehen zu werden, wie sie keine einfache Polizeiarbeit verrichteten, wenn jemand ein Problem aufzeigte.

So würden die gefährdeten Leute, obwohl sie mehrere offensichtliche Virusausbrüche in Sichtweite hatten, Betrix LaGrange bekämpfen, wenn sie versuchte wegzulaufen, oder die anderen Leute im Terminal könnten sehen, dass sie "ihren Job nicht machten". Gesellschaftlicher Gruppendruck ist eine Schlampe.

Im anschließenden Chaos schlüpfte ich weg und startete dann in einem vollen Sprint den Gang hinunter. An diesem Punkt war es totaler Chaos, als eine Panik die Leute in der Station packte. Ich rannte, nicht in Richtung dieser drei Schiffe, sondern auf der Suche nach dem Schiff, das Betrix angeheuert hatte. Ich musste nur herausfinden, welcher es zuerst war.

Ich dachte, es könnte schwierig werden, bis ich die Ziele aller Schiffe in Tangaroa erreichte. Zwei Schiffe waren auf dem Weg nach Tirol IV, aber eines davon war kommerziell, was bedeutete, dass das andere die Fahrt von Betrix war: die passend benannte Rache Walküre.

Nach einem fünfminütigen Sprint über die Station zitterte mein Arm beim Tragen der silbernen Tasche. Ich musste mich beeilen, da von Minute zu Minute mehr gelbe Anzüge ankamen. Die Ankündigungen gingen über die PA und baten alle um Zusammenarbeit. Unbehagliche Angst schwebte über den Menschen wie eine dunkle Wolke.

Überall waren Anzeichen des Virus zu sehen. Eine Frau in einer weißen Forschungsjacke demontierte die Sitze in einer Lounge mit einem Schraubendreher. Sie hatte die Pfosten auf einem Flor, die Sitzlehnen in einem anderen und war damit beschäftigt, den Stoff zu reißen, um einen dritten zu machen. Ein anderer Mann schmierte farbig Gewürze aus dem Lebensmittelbereich an der Wand, während ein Dritter einen Automaten übergedrückt hatte und die Eingeweide zum Sortieren herausriß.

Rache Walküre war in einer privaten Bucht. Ich rannte auf das Schiff zu und winkte mit dem silbernen Koffer. Der Aufzug kam nach unten, aber als ich den Knopf drückte, um ihn nach oben zu senden, sprach eine körperlose Stimme durch die Kommunikation.

"Du bist nicht Betrix", sagte er, mit einem Akzent, der mir nicht bekannt war. Es klang, als würde er versuchen, eine formale Bildung zu verstecken.

"Ich bin ihr Partner. Ich habe den Fall hier, aber sie wurde festgenommen. Sie sagte, ich solle die Lieferung ohne sie machen", sagte ich.

"Das ändert immer noch nichts an der Tatsache, dass du nicht Betrix bist. Sie hat mich eingestellt, also warte ich auf sie", sagte er.

"Woher hätte ich sonst wissen sollen, dass ich dein Schiff holen soll, wenn sie es mir nicht gesagt hätte? Beeil dich und lass mich rein. Wenn wir nicht bald abreisen, könnten sie Kampfhubschrauber einsetzen, um eine strenge Quarantäne zu gewährleisten, und Sie werden Ihren Bonus nicht bekommen", sagte ich und vermutete, dass Betrix einen angeboten hatte.

Als ich statisch antwortete, drückte ich erneut auf den Knopf und sagte: "Ich erhöhe deine Gebühr um zwanzig Prozent."

"Woher weiß ich, dass du den Virus nicht hast, der in der Station ist?", fragte er.

"Ich habe niemanden berührt", sagte ich, aber als ich erkannte, dass er diesen Kontext nicht verstehen würde, erklärte ich, "wird das Virus durch Kontakt übertragen. Ich hörte die Sicherheitsleute reden."

Nach einer Schweigeminute sagte er: "Fünfundzwanzig."

"Abgemacht", sagte ich und hoffte, dass das nicht zu viel war.

Als die Plattform anfing, in das Schiff zu heben, wollte ich aufatmen, aber bis wir wieder im Weltraum waren, traute ich mich nicht.

Der Raum hinter der Kabine war nicht groß, aber er hatte einen Absetzstuhl. Ich schnallte mich an, nachdem ich das Gehäuse darunter geschoben hatte.

" Bereit!" schrie ich und hoffte, dass er mich durch die Tür hören konnte.

Ich hatte Angst, dass er seine Motoren nicht anmachen würde, besonders wenn die Innenbeleuchtung ausgeschaltet war und mich in der Dunkelheit zurückließ, aber dann spürte ich eine plötzliche Schwindelanfälle und merkte, dass wir uns bewegten. Er hatte uns von der Schwerkraft der Station befreit und wir drifteten weg und drehten uns. Der Schwung zog uns auf den Planeten zu. Durch das wirbelnde Sichtfenster beobachtete ich, wie UEE-Notfallreaktionsschiffe auf die Station herabstiegen.

Das Schiff fing an, an Fahrt aufzunehmen, als wir auf den Planeten schleuderten. Funken blitzten über das Ansichtsfenster. Ich begann mir Sorgen zu machen, dass der Pilot gestorben war, als er im letzten Moment die Motoren einschaltete und uns durch die Atmosphäre trieb, auf der anderen Seite des Planeten, weg von der Station und den ankommenden UEE-Schiffen.

Nach erfolgreicher Flucht aus der Quarantäne machte sich das Schiff auf den Weg zum Tiroler Sprungplatz. Der Kapitän lud mich in die vordere Kabine ein.

Er war ein robuster, gutaussehender Mann Ende der dreißiger Jahre mit olivgrüner Haut und dunklem, schmutzigen Haar, das bis zu seinen Schultern ging. Er fühlte sich in der Wildnis auf einem windgepeitschten Hügel, der von fremden Bäumen umgeben war, wohler als in einer Schiffskabine. Seine Zähne waren etwas schief, aber das machte sein Lächeln liebenswerter.

"Umhängetasche", sagte er und bot seine Hand an.

Wir zitterten und ich spürte, wie ein warmes Kribbeln meinen Arm hochging. Vielleicht wäre diese letzte Etappe der Reise doch nicht so schlimm.

"Lust auf eine Orange?", fragte er und bot die Frucht an, nachdem er sie aus einem Beutel gepflückt hatte. "Helios hat einige der besten Orangen. Sie schmecken nach Sonne und Strand."

"Sicher", sagte ich und streichelte seine Hand leicht, als ich die Orange annahm.

Er schenkte mir ein Lächeln, das mein Gesicht zum Kribbeln brachte.

Ich fühlte mich ein wenig erschöpft von meinem Sprint durch die Station und allgemeinem Schlafmangel und schälte meine Orange in Ruhe, als wir durch die große Leere rasten. Mit meinem Fingernagel brach ich mir die Haut und fing an, die Schale zurückzureißen. Ich legte die Orange auf meine Nase. Er hatte Recht. Es roch nach Sonnenschein. Süßer zuckerhaltiger Sonnenschein, aber Sonnenschein ohne Ende. Ich atmete tief ein. Der Geruch linderte meine Erschöpfung. Bevor ich einen Keil abreißen und ihn in meinen Wartemund stecken konnte, bemerkte ich, wie Captain Satchel etwas Seltsames auf seinem Schoß tat.

Er ließ seine Orange bereits schälen, aber anstatt sie zu essen, stapelte er die gleich großen Stücke auf und ordnete sie auf seinem Bein an. Sobald wir einen Blick teilten, sah ich die Angst in seinen Augen. Er hatte den Virus, was bedeutete, dass ich ihn auch hatte, und wir waren zu weit weg, um Hilfe zu holen.

[18:15:25]

Fortsetzung folgt.....

Writer’s Note: The Second Run: A Sorri Lyrax Delivery (Part Three) was published originally in Jump Point 4.3. You can read Part One here, and Part Two here.
Part 3: Act Like You Know
Dodecahedron had already passed through the Kilian system, and was well on its way through Ellis towards the Magnus jump where it would then continue on its way to Stanton. The complete opposite direction of where I wanted to go. Under normal circumstances, the pilot of the ship would have honored his agreement and have already dropped me off at a starport so I could continue my journey to Tyrol IV and finish my delivery on time. Normal circumstances might also indicate a place to sit that didn’t involve slightly-above-freezing ship flooring and a less than insane number of wooden games and puzzles in my general vicinity.

But nothing about Dodecahedron had been normal thus far. Now I was going to miss the timetable and I was out more funds that I couldn’t recover. At the rate I was going, I’d use up my ship savings and be back at zero year soon.

I hadn’t given up, but I didn’t have any more ideas about how to convince him to take me to an Ellis station. I’d threatened to destroy his puzzles, but he calmly replied that he would cut the oxygen supply off and throw my body out the airlock. I thought it was a bad joke at first. But since I hadn’t registered my trip on Vita Perry, nor the transfer to Dodecahedron, no one would ever know that he’d killed me. I was at his mercy.

Based on the twisted games on the shelves, I should count myself lucky that he hadn’t knocked me out and cut me into tiny pieces.

I didn’t even really know how to read him. Men like him never came into my father’s bar. Occasionally, we’d see ‘proper folk’ — that’s what my father called anyone who could speak for more than ten minutes about a subject not involving making, fixing, or operating something — wander in when the sky chose to drench them, looking for a dry place to hunker down. They’d ask for a menu and when my father would point to the list of eight items we cooked on the wall, they would wrinkle their noses like mice sniffing a trap. To be fair, “cooked” was a liberal use of the term. We had a vat of semi-regularly changed synthetic oil that served to flash-fry the various food-like items we carried. My father only had the food because the late night drunks wanted something to soak up the alcohol before they tried to take a hover back to their apartments. I imagine many of those meals were hurled out the window at vomit-speed to rain down on unfortunate pedestrians.

So I only had my brief interactions with Senet Mehen and his museum of puzzles to judge him by. Mostly, I was at a loss. In my mind, I could replace him with a sorting robot and a programmed auto-pilot, and the ship would go on doing business without a hitch.

And maybe that was the problem. He didn’t understand, nor care, about people. We were a blank wall to him. Heck, my initial message to him was a spam comm. I should have been more suspicious when it got a reply. Normal people knew enough about Human nature to ignore messages like that. Instead, all he cared about was his puzzles and nothing else, which, honestly, seemed a little sad to me. I wondered about the kind of childhood that would drive him away from Humanity, to hide in a box flying through space.

It might seem hypocritical for me to think that, given my plan to do something vaguely similar, but it wasn’t the travel between the star systems that interested me. I wanted to know the people at each destination, learn about their customs, be grossed out by their meals, dance awkwardly at their parties, laugh at their jokes.

Frustrated and chilled, with no way to influence Senet Mehen at my disposal, I stared at the puzzle tower on the table. The jagged, fractal-like pieces were meant to scissor together in three dimensions, creating a wooden sculpture.

On their own, the pieces seemed impossible to decipher. I’d put together jigsaw puzzles on my mobi when I was a young girl, but with those there was always a picture to give a clue to the final result. With this one there seemed to be no target shape to shoot for. The maddening interlocking pieces had to be fitted together in ways that seemed random to create the final shape, and the only clues the creator had given were in the form of wispy lines on the individual pieces.

I wasn’t a puzzle expert by any means, but I was surprised by Senet Mehen’s inability to solve it, if, as he said, it was only supposed to be of a moderate difficulty.

Which got me thinking: what if didn’t require raw problem solving skills but something else which Senet Mehen lacked?

I didn’t know how long I had until we reached the Magnus jump point, but if I could figure the puzzle out before then, I had a chance.

I quickly started organizing the pieces, trying to understand how they fit together. At first, I tried to match the geometric shapes, but decided that Senet Mehen had probably tried that, so I shouldn’t bother. That line of thinking eliminated a few other strategies. Basically anything involving geometry, physics, or mathematics.

Each piece had wispy ink-drawn lines that made me think of map contours. They tickled my memory, but I couldn’t pick out what they were trying to represent. Each section was thin enough not to give enough information.

Rather than look at the pieces, I thought about what they could represent that Senet Mehen wouldn’t be able to figure out given a significant amount of time. When I caught my reflection on the highly polished table I knew the answer: faces.

Senet Mehen knew nothing about people, therefore he wouldn’t know how to interpret faces. I’d heard that sociopaths saw others as interchangeable and disposable in their self-mythologized universe.

It didn’t take me long to construct a partial face given a dozen pieces. A woman’s wind-swept hair and forehead with arched eyebrows formed on the curved wooden section.

In case Senet Mehen was watching me on a video feed, I stopped solving the puzzle and quickly mixed up the pieces. Then I started taking pictures and used my mobi to study them further. In doing so, I figured out that the goal of the puzzle was to make interlocking sheets. The faces helped you put the sheets together and then the sheets had to be fit together to form a larger picture. The shapes of the outside pieces would create a wooden head.

After organizing the pictures I took and writing a few instructions, I went to the intercom at the front of the cargo bay.

“Hello, Senet Mehen. I need to speak about the puzzle you have on your table,” I said.

“I’ve already explained that I will not be intimidated, and destroying anything will only put your life at risk,” he said.

“What if I told you I know how to solve it?” I asked, as my lips curled into a grin.

After a few moments, he replied, “I’d say you are a liar. I checked my feeds and the puzzle looks exactly as it was when I left it.”

“Oh, I haven’t put it together,” I said, “but I figured out how to do so. The rest is a formality. It was quite simple really. I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out months ago. How long ago did you say you started working on it?”

The comm crackled with static and then I heard a muffled rage-scream through the metal wall.

I had his attention, but was a little worried I’d pushed him too far. I listened for the recyclers to stop their humming.

After a few minutes, he replied, “What do you want?”

“Drop me off at Green. The planet’s not far from the Magnus jump point, so it wouldn’t be out of your way,” I said, taking a deep breath. “And in return, I’ll tell you how to solve the puzzle.”

“No, it’s a trick. There’s no way someone like you—”

Heat rose in my chest. “Someone like me?! Yeah, maybe I grew up slinging drinks to gristle-faced workers, listening to their complaints — not all unwarranted! — about how they’ve spent their lives getting screwed. But at least I tried to get out. To be better. I may be common to someone like you, but I figured out your damn puzzle, in a few short hours, I might add, and if you want to know how to put it together, I’ll send you a file explaining the missing link that’s kept you from solving it. But I won’t send it to you until I’m safely off at Green, no earlier, no later. Do we have a deal?”

The outburst felt entirely too good, but I worried I’d gone too far. The silence was oppressive.

When the comm crackled to life, I closed my eyes and crossed my fingers.

“I will reroute my journey for Green in exchange for the solution,” he said. “Prepare for disembarking in five point two hours.”

Relief flooded my limbs. I sunk to the floor and put my head in my hands. I was back on track. In fact, since Ellis was a jump closer to Tyrol, by the end of this whole mess on Dodecahedron, I’d wind up saving some time.

When we neared a small transfer hub on a far orbit around Green, I took off the EVA suit that I’d been keeping on for warmth, and started searching for a ship headed to Taranis system once my mobiGlas linked up.

There were no wet-eyed goodbyes when I left Dodecahedron, but I stayed long enough for him to check the solution. His eyes widened when he saw why the puzzle had resisted his efforts to solve it.

“That was quite remarkable. Do you have time to look at another puzzle that’s been plaguing me?” he asked.

I was so incredulous at his offer that I almost forgot to respond. “No, sorry. I have another ship to catch.”

“Ah,” he said. “Farewell and good luck.”

I’d landed in time to catch a low-rent transport to Bethor on the surface of Taranis III and didn’t want to miss it. I made Filigree Angel with time to spare.

The ship was wonderfully boring with my newfound love for beige carpets and comfortable seating. The journey was uneventful, but despite the lack of stimulus, I couldn’t sleep. Landing at Bethor would put me over halfway to my destination. In fact, I found two more trips that lined up perfectly, getting me to Tyrol IV with a half a day to spare. I could practically taste the credits rolling into my account. One year closer to my dream ship, the Aurora LX. I hadn’t dared name her yet, feeling that was too presumptuous, but when that day came, it would be glorious.

[31:05:05]

The approach to Taranis III was spectacular. The storm-covered planet crackled with electricity. The northern hemisphere was cast in darkness, which highlighted trails of glowing gas that weaved through the upper atmosphere. It was like giant luminescent constrictors, a thousand kilometers long, were snaking through the sky.

The only blemish I could see on the planet was a blue domed station hovering high above the equator. Bethor was home to a large settlement of Tevarin and Human refugees and expatriates; basically, anyone looking to escape the reach of the Empire for one reason or another. The cloud city was one of the more civilized parts of uncivilized space.

No time to fully appreciate it, though. I’d have to come back one day when I didn’t have a countdown hanging over my head. It was only a brief stopover before I managed to book another ship to Tangaroa in the Helios system.

[22:13:56]

Other than the pilot who liked to sing a little bit too much for my taste, the flight to Helios was as smooth as could be. It was the traffic outside of the Tangaroa transfer junction that was the problem. Ships were backed up in a long queue waiting for clearance to land at the busy station. About half of them were starliners filled with tourists who had come to vacation along the ocean planet’s temporary beaches or subsurf beneath its massive waves. Another place to add to my running “come back and visit” list.

It was about another hour before we were able to land and by that point I really was regretting not having the EVA suit with me. Jumping out of the ship would have been preferable to hearing another verse of the pilot’s favorite song, “No Room for Love.”

After moving through the security, I made my way across the station towards my next flight. The press of people was a little overwhelming and with the exhaustion of the trip settling on my bones, I almost didn’t see her before it was too late.

Betrix LaGrange was coming out of another tunnel, blonde hair bobbing to a beat as she was listening to her mobiGlas. She stopped momentarily to adjust her right shoe.

I used her distraction to turn and walk right through the nearest door. A male voice cleared his throat. I looked around and realized that the door I had chosen blindly was the men’s bathroom.

I moved into a stall before anyone else came in, sat down, and contemplated my next move.

What was Betrix doing here? Did she have a plan to steal the case from me or was this pure coincidence? Suddenly, the way to Tyrol IV seemed laden with danger.

I checked my messages from FTL, finding a list of deliveries due in the next two days. Somehow, I’d been signed up without my consent and the normal protocols about such things overridden.

“What the—?”

It clicked into place. Betrix must have had her boyfriend overload my schedule to force me to make a decision between keeping my job at FTL and making it to Tyrol IV. The due dates were manageable, assuming I left right now and headed back towards Sol. There were enough deliveries that if I missed them, I’d be put on probation, which in company terms was just a formality before firing. Canceling jobs once you accepted them was nearly as bad.

I punched the plastic wall as hard as I could. It hurt.

“Is there a problem?” came a deep voice from the other side.

“No TP,” I said, lowering my voice.

A roll wrapped in white cellophane was shoved under the wall. The quick response caught my notice, so I leaned down. On the other side of the wall was a stack of toilet paper, neatly placed into rows or stacked into towers and pyramids. The gentleman in the next stall seemed to be hoarding them.

“No thanks,” I said. “I have some napkins.”

Turning back to my current dilemma, Betrix had me cornered. I knew she was counting on me to abandon the delivery and save my job, so she could swoop in and take the case from me when I did. I bit my lower lip. I’d survived a life-support malfunction and a space-faring lunatic. I wasn’t going to be stopped by little-miss-hagfish.

The toilet on the other side of the TP-hoarding gentleman flushed, which reminded me where I was hiding. While squeezing my nose closed because of the smell wafting under the wall, I studied the list. If I made the freelance delivery, and then prioritized two of the other six deliveries using non-commercial ships while ignoring the rest, I would barely stay above probation. The gambit would cost me more credits against my expected returns, and I wouldn’t be able to make a mistake for another two years, but it could work.

Of course, all that was counting on Betrix not having some other backup strategy in place, like knocking me over the head with a hammer or something equally desperate. To be safe, I should make sure to get to my flight without encountering her.

Exiting the stall, I was greeted by a janitor in a blue-green jumpsuit and company hat, with a spray bottle in one hand and a rag in the other. His cart was loaded down with cleaning supplies. He acknowledged my gender with a heavy blink, before moving on with wiping down the sink.

I wrinkled my forehead and nose, not because of the awful smell still lingering in the men’s room, but due to an idea that came to me like a supernova.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Would you like to make a few credits?”

[20:58:44]

The janitor’s clothes weren’t as baggy as the EVA suit, but they did the trick. I wasn’t as worried about my outfit as I was the silvery case. Which was why I’d bribed the janitor to borrow his cart, too. The silvery case was buried beneath the cleaning supplies.

Betrix had positioned herself near a tunnel to the other section where my departing ship was waiting. She was scanning the people as they went past her.

I kept my head down, so the hat covered my face, and kept moving. The station was busy enough that Betrix would have to focus on looking for the silvery case. It was quite distinctive. I had to hope that was enough to get me past her.

As I neared her position, I held my breath. Betrix was standing on her tippy-toes trying to see over the crowd. As I approached, I was certain she’d notice my baggy jumpsuit and realize it was me beneath the hat.

But as quickly as I approached, I was past her and headed down the tube. Another fifty meters further, I took off the jumpsuit and liberated the case, leaving the cart where the janitor told me to. Then I hurried towards my destination, hoping they’d let me board early in case Betrix came looking for me.

The departure gate was in sight when I saw the security detail close the door. My mobi indicated that I wasn’t late. I was confused until I noticed the displays on the wall listing all commercial flights cancelled.

Was Betrix more powerful and desperate than I had given her credit for?

A few irate customers had already lined up at the commercial counter. I knew I wouldn’t learn anything there, but I spied a knot of security guards talking by a vending machine. As discreetly as I could, I feigned fixing my boot laces, while I listened to their conversation.

“. . . don’t know why, just that we’re on lockdown . . .”

“. . . it’s a medical quarantine. A code yellow, so not deadly, but they don’t want it to get out. Makes people act loopy. Heard that the first guy who was sick had pulled out his hair one by one . . .”

“. . . dammit, this means I’ll miss my son’s sataball game . . .”

“. . . at least we’ll get hazard overtime . . .”

“. . . they say how it’s transmitted?”

“. . . a contact virus, so unless it got picked up by the foodies, it shouldn’t spread too quickly . . .”

Crite. Quarantine. Who knows how long that might last?

With the commercial ships shut down, there’d be no way off the station, unless I could find a captain willing to break quarantine. As I started walking back towards the main terminal, I dug through the ship list, looking for small ships with newer ID numbers. Those would give me the best chance, since they probably needed the credits most. The likelihood that they would take me was small, but I had to try.

I’d identified three ships that might take me when I heard my name spoken with well-worn disdain.

“Sorri Lyrax,” said Betrix, standing with her arms crossed. “It doesn’t look like you’ll be making your delivery.”

“If you haven’t noticed, nobody’s leaving the station, which means you too,” I said. “Neither of us is going to deliver the job right now.”

When the self-satisfied smug smile appeared on her lips, I knew she had a ship waiting that would take her and the case directly to Tyrol IV. Betrix wasn’t above using unorthodox methods either, it seemed.

“Hand over the case. You had a good run, but it ends here. I’ll give you five percent, as a token gesture of good faith,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Why do you even want this job so bad?” I asked.

“I’m saving up to buy a ship, you ninny,” she said. “An Aurora LX. Best long-range hauler for a freelance courier. Comfortable as sin. I have a replica patent leather captain’s chair in my apartment on Saisei, just waiting to be installed in it.”

The fire in her eyes practically glowed. Though I didn’t agree with her methods, I knew exactly what drove her. It was what was pushing me to take chances with every delivery. Knowing this made me realize, as much as I loathed to admit it, that we might actually have something in common.

“Why?” I persisted.

“What’s with all the questions?” asked Betrix, glancing around as if she thought it might be a trick.

“Humor me, and I might hand over the case,” I said.

Betrix visibly recoiled, as if that act seemed ridiculous under the circumstances. She almost ignored my question, but then her lower lip tightened, as if memories came bubbling up unwarranted.

“I never want to be stuck on any planet. Ever. Space is the only place you can be safe and free,” she said.

Whatever fire was burning in her eyes became eclipsed by darkness. I didn’t even want to know what had caused her that amount of pain. And as much as I hated every slimy inch of her guts, I wanted to give her a hug.

While I mulled the insane idea that I was about to offer, I noticed something odd going on with the nearby fruit vendor. He’d taken his wares and dumped them onto the floor and was sorting them into groups by shape and color. The passengers in the area were giving him a wide berth.

It wasn’t the only oddity in the vicinity. A businessman had dumped his suitcase on the ground and was putting his clothes into piles. In the distance, I saw a group of people in yellow hazard suits marching in our direction.

Crite.

“Look, we shouldn’t be fighting,” I said in a hurried breath. “We both want the same thing. We’re both smart, savvy and driven. But our competition is costing us credits, when we could be working as a team. What if we made the delivery together, and then pooled our credits to purchase an Aurora and had it modified for a crew of two? Yes, I know, we’d probably still hate each other, but it’d only be for a year or so, and after that, I’m sure we could earn enough to purchase a second ship and take our separate ways. Before you say no, think about it. It’ll knock years off our plans to be on our own. If we’re willing to put up with each other, I’m sure we could have a ship by the end of this year and be on our own within two.”

For a brief and wonderful moment, she was a totally different person. There wasn’t a shred of the self-absorbed, manipulative, hateful . . . sorry, went on a roll there. I gathered that no one had ever made an offer to work with her before. Suddenly, her stand-offish and often vicious behavior made sense, despite not knowing what original pain had caused it.

Then her features slowly started to harden, as if the frost in her soul was freezing its way up. By the time the words, “No, not ever,” reached her lips, I’d already formulated a new plan.

Fine. But don’t ever say I didn’t try.

I tried to move past Betrix, but she grabbed my arm. I swear she was an android in disguise by that grip.

“Let me go, Betrix,” I said.

“You’re not making that delivery,” she said, as she reached for the case.

I tried to pull my arm free, but she wouldn’t let me. The people around us began moving away, sensing the conflict. The people in hazard suits were approaching, and they were starting to notice us.

“Not now, Betrix, or you’ll get us both thrown in a private quarantine,” I said.

Either Betrix didn’t hear me or didn’t care, but she kept tugging on the case, trying to yank it from my grip. The yellow-suited authorities had shifted their path and were coming directly for us.

When I realized she wasn’t going to let go, I yelled, “She’s got it! She’s got it! She’s got the virus!”

Rule number six: Act like you know.

In moments of panic or confusion, be the person who takes charge so you can ensure the chaos forms around your needs.

It was another lesson that I’d learned from my father. On the occasions that the corrupt local police would come into the Golden Horde to solicit bribes, my father would ensure that an “incident” would occur down the street at the moment they arrived. In truth, he had a friend in the department who usually warned him when they were coming. My father would always be outside during the incident — usually a small fire, or reported purse-snatching — and he would start yelling at the police to go put out the fire or stop the thief, who was never caught. Despite their intentions in collecting monies rather than doing their job, they hated to be seen not doing simple police work when someone was highlighting a problem.

Thus, the hazard-suited folk, despite having multiple obvious virus outbreaks within visual distance, would tackle Betrix LaGrange when she tried to run away, or the other people in the terminal might see that they “weren’t doing their job.” Societal peer pressure is a bitch.

In the ensuing chaos, I slipped away then took off in a full sprint down the passage. At this point, it was total bedlam as a panic gripped the people in the station. I ran, not in the direction of those three ships, but in search of the ship that Betrix had hired. I just had to figure out which one it was first.

I thought it might be difficult until I pulled up the destinations of all the ships at Tangaroa. Two ships were headed to Tyrol IV, but one of them was commercial, which meant the other was Betrix’s ride: the aptly named Vengeance Valkyrie.

After a five-minute sprint across the station, my arm was shaking from carrying the silvery case. I had to hurry as more yellow-suits were arriving by the minute. Announcements went over the PA, asking everyone for cooperation. Uneasy fear hovered over the people like a dark cloud.

Signs of the virus could be seen everywhere. One woman in a white research jacket was disassembling the seats in a lounge using a screwdriver. She had the posts sitting in one pile, the seat backs in another, and was busy trying to rip the fabric loose to make a third. Another man was smearing condiments from the food area on the wall by color, while a third had pushed over a vending machine and was ripping out the guts to sort.

Vengeance Valkyrie was in a private bay. I ran towards the ship, waving the silvery case. The lift came down but when I pressed the button to send it up, a disembodied voice spoke through the comms.

“You’re not Betrix,” he said, in an accent I wasn’t familiar with. It sounded like he was trying to hide a formal education.

“I’m her partner. I got the case here, but she got detained. She said to make the delivery without her,” I said.

“That still doesn’t change the fact that you’re not Betrix. She hired me, so I’m waiting for her,” he said.

“How else would I have known to come for your ship if she hadn’t told me? Hurry up and let me on. If we don’t leave soon, they might bring in gunships to ensure a tight quarantine and you won’t get your bonus,” I said, guessing Betrix had offered one.

When static was my answer, I pressed the button again and said, “I’ll up your fee twenty percent.”

“How do I know you don’t have this virus that’s in the station?” he asked.

“I haven’t touched anyone,” I said, but realizing he wouldn’t understand that context, I elaborated, “the virus is transmitted by contact. I overheard the security talking.”

After a moment of silence, he said, “Twenty-five.”

“Deal,” I said, hoping that wasn’t too much.

When the platform started lifting into the ship, I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but until we were back in space, I didn’t dare.

The room behind the cabin wasn’t large, but it had a take-off chair. I strapped myself in after shoving the case beneath it.

“Ready!” I yelled, hoping he could hear me through the door.

I worried he wasn’t going to light his engines, especially when the internal lights switched off, leaving me in near-darkness, but then I felt a sudden wash of vertigo and realized we were moving. He’d untethered us from station gravity and we drifted away, spinning. The momentum dragged us towards the planet. Through the whirling viewport, I watched UEE emergency response vessels descend on the station.

The ship began to pick up speed as we hurled towards the planet. Sparks flashed across the viewport. I began to worry that the pilot had died, when at what felt like the last moment, he switched on the engines and propelled us through the atmosphere, coming out on the other side of the planet, away from the station and the incoming UEE ships.

After successfully escaping the quarantine, the ship headed towards the Tyrol jump point. The captain invited me into the forward cabin.

He was a ruggedly handsome man in his late thirties with olive skin and dark messy hair that went to his shoulders. He looked more at home in the wilderness on a wind-swept hilltop surrounded by alien trees than in a ship cabin. His teeth were a little crooked but that made his smile more endearing.

“Satchel,” he said, offering his hand.

We shook and I felt a warm tingle travel up my arm. Maybe this final leg of the journey wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Care for an orange?” he asked, offering the fruit after plucking it from a bag. “Helios has some of the best oranges. They taste like sunshine and beaches.”

“Sure,” I said, brushing his hand lightly when I accepted the orange.

He gave me a smile that made my face tingle.

Feeling a little worn out from my sprint through the station and general lack of sleep, I peeled my orange in quiet as we sped through the great emptiness. Using my fingernail, I broke the skin and started ripping back the peel. I put the orange against my nose. He was right. It smelled like sunshine. Sweet sugary sunshine, but sunshine none-the-less. I inhaled deeply. The smell took the edge off my exhaustion. Before I could rip off a wedge and plop it in my waiting mouth, I noticed Captain Satchel doing something strange in his lap.

He had his orange already peeled, but instead of eating it, he was piling up the identically sized pieces and arranging them on his leg. As soon as we shared a glance, I saw the fear in his eyes. He had the virus, which meant that I had it too, and we were too far away to get help.

[18:15:25]

To be continued…